Harry Potter and the US Presidency
by doctor b. broseph
Summary: When a Voldemort from an alternate universe discovers how to travel between universes, Harry finds himself wrapped up in a plan to defeat this inter-dimensional Voldemort, using himself as bait! Placed in a universe in which he serves as U.S. President, the most high-profile office imaginable, Harry must avoid being killed by Lord Voldemort for yet another year and return to home.
1. Chapter 1 - Doppelbängers with MASH

_**Doppelbängers with M*A*S*H**_

"I still don't get why Hermione went back for an eighth year," smirked Ron, as he reclined on the train seat, "Kingsley offered us all pretty decent jobs after the Battle of Hogwarts. Auror is a bloody great career, why'd she bother going back?"

"Maybe she wanted another job?" shrugged Harry, "There are plenty of other jobs that might float Hermione's boat."

"I can think of a few jobs I'd like her to consider," smiled Ron slyly.

Harry raised an eyebrow bemusedly, and then shrugged off the thought.

"Still, Luna, Neville and Ginny all went back. Let's face it, Auror is a dangerous job," offered Harry, "We're basically Wizard Cops."

Ron frowned.

"What are 'cops'?"

Harry sighed.

"Muggle Aurors."

"Bloody hell," smiled Ron, "How are they gonna deal with dark wizards? I dunno how well a gun would go against a Death Eater or something."

Harry began to retort that shooting a gun would be a lot quicker than reciting a spell when he noticed someone who looked exactly like himself pass by the carriage door and stop.

His look-alike froze suddenly, turned to face him in the eye and flashed a grin.

Harry noticed his doppelganger was not alone, and in fact had an arm wrapped around Cho Chang, who laid her head against his shoulder as they walked.

"Ron- "

Ron looked up and gasped.

"Bloody hell, Harry! It's you!"

The imposter Harry then gripped Cho around the waist and scurried off down the train towards the caboose at the end.

Ron and Harry exchanged shocked expressions.

"Did you-"

"Yes, he looked-"

"Just like me!"

Ron ran his hand through his hair worriedly.

"What do you think is going on there? Think he's using Polyjuice Potion or something?"

Harry whipped out his wand.

"There's only one way to find out. Let's roll out."

* * *

As Harry and Ron slowly snuck down the hallway, Ron began to whisper.

"Do you suppose that's even the real Cho Chang? Like if someone is posing as you, couldn't that be someone posed as Chang? Like a doppelchang?"

Ron let out a small chuckle before Harry shushed him.

"This isn't the time for puns, Ron. We've got two compartments left to check for my doppelganger and Chang. We're Aurors dammit; let's focus on the task at hand."

Ron's smile slid from his face, and muttering bitterly, he fell in line before Harry.

Harry reached for the handle to the door in front of him. Slowly gripping the handle, he raised his wand and burst into the compartment.

Dean Thomas started in his seat, his laptop falling out of his lap and onto the floor, displaying an episode of M*A*S*H on the screen.

"Holy pews in the back row of the church, Harry; you scared the communal wine out of me! What are you playing at?" he gasped, reaching back for the laptop.

"Sorry Dean, official Auror business," smirked Ron, as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Cool it Ron. Dean's a cool guy. We can trust him."

He lowered the wand and gave Dean an appraising look.

"We can trust you, right Dean?"

"S-sure Harry. We're, uh… pals? Aren't we?"

Harry shrugged non-committedly. Dean had dated his current girlfriend Ginny, so there was some unspoken tension there, though Harry was pretty confident he was the better lover of the two.

Also his wand appeared to have a few more inches than Dean's wand, lying strewn amongst several discs labelled 'M*A*S*H'.

"Have you seen anything weird lately Dean? Perhaps you've already seen me walk past earlier?"

Dean shook his head furiously.

"Hey man, I've just been busy on my laptop. Got my headphones in and everything. Just minding my own business."

In the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron trying to give Dean a menacing glare. He looked like he could use a laxative.

"Very well Dean. You keep under the radar, or my hawk-eyes will see. You don't want me to potter on over and catch you like the expert trapper I am, do you Hot-Lips?"

Ron had no idea what Harry was saying but it sounded to him that Harry might have been hitting on Dean. Poor Ron had never seen an episode of M*A*S*H and was thrown for a loop.

Dean gave a shaky thumbs-up and huddled down with his laptop as though trying to sink into the seat and out of sight.

Harry ushered Ron from the room and closed the door behind him. There was only one room left to explore.

He carefully approached the door, drew out his wand and kicked down the wooden frame.

His eyes widened as he surveyed the compartment.

His doppelganger was nailing Cho Chang on the train seat, pants around his ankles.

"Looks like your doppelganger is doppelbanging the doppelchang," noted Ron.

* * *

"Oh god! Harry, oh Harry! Oh god… Harry!?" screamed Cho, eyes bulging as she noticed Harry standing in the door frame.

Harry's arm fell limp to his side as he surveyed the scene. His doppelganger glanced over his shoulder as Cho pulled herself off him and pulled down her skirt.

Looking startled, she fled from the compartment, a mortified shade of red.

"Three's a crowd, Harry," sighed his doppelganger, as he too hiked up his pants, thankfully facing away from the pair as he did so.

"Bloody hell, other Harry, what's all this then?" inquired Ron.

"Stupefy," he replied, knocking Ron out cold and flinging him from the compartment.

Harry drew his wand but his doppelganger dropped his own and raised his hands, gesturing for peace.

"Hey Harry, can we talk?" his doppelganger smiled, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Who are you and why did you doppelbang- sorry, can I start that again? Ahem, why did you bang Chang?" stumbled Harry.

"I'm you Harry," smiled the other Harry, "I'm you from another universe. An alternate universe if you will. And I porked Chang because let's face it, you'd do her too. We've always had a thing for her."

Harry nodded despite himself, but resolved to continue his firm grip on his wand.

"Okay, sure, you're an alternate version of myself. Why, and how, are you here?"

"I'm here to complete the mission tasked with all versions of ourselves. The challenge every Harry Potter in every possible iteration of the multiverse has had to undertake. I want to kill Lord Voldemort, avenge my parents and fulfil the prophecy that altered our lives."

"Lord Voldemort is still alive?" gasped Harry, clutching at his scar as though expecting it to burn.

"Not your Voldemort" clarified the other Harry sadly, "But another version of Voldemort who discovered how to travel across universes and aims to conquer them all. I've been tracking his march through various universes in hopes of finally killing him, but he's seeking out all versions of us and killing them."

"So you're here to warn me? Protect me?"

"You'll serve an even better purpose. Bait."

Harry frowned.

"What?"

"I'm taking you to a universe where Voldemort already killed your counterpart, and using you as bait to lure him back here to finish the job. And then I'll finish off him."

"Like hell I'm going to agree to this," scowled Harry, "I already defeated Voldemort. That part of my life is over. I've earned a break, dammit. Is one year without my life at risk too much to ask for?"

The doppelganger sighed.

"Very well. You are free to leave."

He motioned towards the door, and Harry stormed off in a huff.

Slamming the door behind him, Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair and kicked the wall. Fuming silently, he suddenly noticed Ron was no longer present.

Turning to ask if his doppelganger had anything to do with this, he noticed the compartment was empty. He also noticed the seats had changed colour and texture.

Glancing around confusedly, he noticed he was no longer on the Hogwarts Express at all. In fact, he appeared to be on a commercial train, with waiters darting past him.

"Son of a Dementor!"

* * *

Harry wandered around the train, cursing the name of his doppelganger. This incidentally also happened to be his own name.

Why would he screw himself like this? Surely if he would never dick around another version of himself like this? Harry began to suspect that the doppelganger's story might be a crock of shit, and he'd just been duped by a sinister dark wizard with access to Polyjuice potion.

"Mr President! You're alive!"

Harry froze. Had that Texan accent just addressed him?

"Excuse me?" Harry said, turning around slowly to face a portly older gentlemen beaming at him.

"We were right worried about you when that bald fella came outta nowhere and flashed something green at ya and ran. We thought you'd had a heart attack outta shock!"

Harry glanced around the empty carriage.

"Are you talking to me?"

The old man's smile fell slightly.

"Yessir, Mr. President. Nobody else here, is there?"

"Are you taking the mickey? Why do you keep calling me the President. I'm just Harry."

The old man glanced around sheepishly.

"You're the President of the United States, Harry."

"I'm a what?"

"The President. And a thumping good one at that."

Harry swore. His doppelganger had been truthful all along.

"Dear sweet Rowling," he muttered, "I'm the goddamn President of the United States of America, and an interdimensional Voldemort is coming to kill me."

His jaw hit the ground, and he followed suit, passing out on the train floor.

"Oh goodness," ejaculated the old man, "He's fainted again."

**To be Continued…**


	2. Chapter 2 - Between Me and AU

Harry awoke with his face pressed against cold glass, as the countryside blurred past him in a sea of pleasant scenery and mild travel sickness.

Head still reeling from the revelations revealed, Harry rubbed his temples gingerly and let out a guttural groan.

Did that really just happen, thought Harry to himself. Surely the discovery of the magical world was enough, what the hell did this sci-fi alternate universe crap have to do with any part of his life?

The empty compartment in which he was seated was pitch black.

Reaching for his wand, Harry pulled himself up to survey his surroundings.

"Lumos."

His wand failed to illuminate.

"I said, 'Lumos'."

Again nothing happened.

Harry swore in the darkness, why the hell was his wand failing on him now of all times?

An unsettling thought occurred to Harry.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The darkness taunted him with its inaction.

"Oh no," let out Harry in a barely audible whisper, "I've been Muggled."

He would have to rely on his own ingenuity and cleverness to get out of this jam. He was screwed.

It occurred to him that this feature, or lack thereof, of this alternate universe may have been another reason the alternate Harry had trapped him here. Voldemort was a powerful sorcerer, and a world in which wands, and perhaps even magic itself, did not work would certainly put Voldemort at a huge disadvantage.

Harry sighed. Either he would have to find what form of magic did exist in this universe (he assumed alternate Harry was using some sort of magic to run this operation; that or vast swathes of uranium) and whether or not he could harness it.

"That's a start," Harry ruminated to himself, "I'll need to source this information as soon as possible."

It suddenly occurred to him that if he had a counterpart in this universe, surely some of the people he knew back home would have their own counterparts as well.

This was certainly a situation he could utilise Hermione's book smarts, or Ron's… whatever he brought to the table. Friendship? Loyalty? A smoking hot sister?

Harry suddenly wondered who the First Lady was.

That's right, Harry thought, I'm the United States President in this universe.

He gave a small little smile.

"I'm currently one of the most powerful men in the Muggle World…"

He looked around the room. Did he have the nuclear football? Launch codes for America's nuclear arsenal?

He couldn't see any sign of it. It was quite possible his alternate self had absconded with it into another universe to prevent him doing anything stupid.

"Lousy doppelbänger," he cursed under his breath, "I swear to God, I see that bastard again, and I'll show me what's up."

While fuming over how badly his doppelgänger had screwed him, the door to his compartment slid open.

All the änger he felt dissipated when he recognised who it was.

"Hermione?"

"Miss Granger will suffice, Mr President," stated Hermione, handing Harry a cup of hot coffee, "Do not assume the same familiarity with me you have with any of your secretaries, maids, or Minister of Education, if you please. I would like to hold some semblance of professionalism when we work."

"I- what? Do we- Hermione, are you my… on my staff?" exclaimed Harry confusedly, taking a long sip from his mug.

Hermione gave him a strange look.

"Did you suffer a head wound when that strange bald man assaulted you? You gave us quite a scare Mr President, we worried for a while we'd have to swear in Vice President Hagrid-"

Harry spat out his drink.

"-and you know how he does in the polls. Still, if you're not currently functioning at full capacity, I will give you a brief summary. I am Secretary of State. You were scheduled to give a speech in London later this evening, but in light of recent events and in your current possibly amnesiac state, we will postpone or cancel if need be."

"Hagrid's Vice President!?" blurted Harry.

"Oh dear," sighed Hermione, "That's a definite cancellation. We can't have you babble incoherently at the summit."

"Also did you imply I sleep with several members of my own staff?" inquired Harry, both shocked and slightly intrigued.

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"While I'm not one to judge, you're certainly a President to follow in Kennedy's footsteps, or rather should I say sheets?" she smirked.

"Have we…" Harry trailed off as Hermione's face went red.

"You don't- What we may or may not have done together is not the present issue, Harry. Since you're incapacitated, Vice President Hagrid will give-"

"Oh God, I did sleep with you didn't I? Ron is going to be so pissed," groaned Harry, "Fucking President Potter can't put his wand away in anything but a Golden Snatch, can he?"

"I'd rather you didn't say anything to him," Hermione said quietly.

"Alternate Ron doesn't know!?" gasped Harry, "This is so messed up. Why did I get mixed up in this crazy whirl of alternate universes, politics and rampant sex?"

"You're rambling, Harry. I think I'll come later. When your head has cleared."

She stood awkwardly in the door for a moment, and then left wordlessly.

Harry sagged in his seat dejectedly. How could this iteration of himself be such an unrepentant sleazy douchebag? Sleeping with his friend's wife? Having multiple affairs with workmates, even maids?

Sure Harry had entertained similar fantasies before, but he was committed to Ginny. He never thought he would even have the possibility within him that he could cheat on her.

And yet, this universe had revealed a side to him, a darkness he would gladly have never known about or explored.

And yet deep down, a dark thought occurred to Harry that whatever happened in this universe would not have an impact on Harry's life, whatever happened here no-one back home would ever know.

Ginny would never know.

Harry sat blankly for a second, fiddling with his wand.

"I'm not that guy…"

He was the President… Who would say no?

"I'd never do that to her…"

He was alone here; the original President Harry was probably dead…

"I would never…"

But he _could_, if he wanted to.

And that unwelcome thought stayed with him the rest of the lonely and miserable train ride back to London.

**To be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3 - Incest is Relative

Hours later, after Harry was taken to a secure location unknown to the general public, Hermione found herself backstage with her husband Ron and the First Lady, Ginny Weasley, and a few additional advisors watching Harry's replacement speaker approach the podium.

While Ginny and Ron wandered off, mentioning something about wanting a hot coffee, Hermione stood next to one of her top advisors, Neville Longbottom as she anxiously watched Vice President Hagrid begin to speak.

"There's been a lot of what you might call 'Obambivalence' towards American politics in the last couple of years," Hagrid began with a smile, standing in front of the large British crowd that had originally gathered to see President Potter give a speech he was no longer capable of giving.

This was largely due to the fact that President Potter was in fact a slowly decaying corpse lying battered and bloody out in the British countryside. His body would not be discovered until a few days later, when a family of famished foxes would stumble upon it.

"Please don't coin any more portmanteaus in this speech;" sighed Hermione into her headset, "We want to look like we're about serious business here."

Vice President Hagrid didn't even pause before continuing on.

"Let's not beat around the bush. Some of you are asking, '_Kennedy_ it?-"

"Literally no-one is asking that-"

"_Can he do _what so many presidents of the past have failed to do?' Can he live up to the expectations of not only the American people but also the Canadians, the British, the Australians and maybe the Swedish?"

"I've told him once I've told him a thousand times, just say 'people of the world', you incompetent-"

"We've been accused of breaking that trust. But as a hot-blooded, eagle-loving American, I like to think we are 'Obamocent', until proven guilty."

"Implied bestiality," groaned Hermione, "How did this oaf get voted into office?"

She downed her seventh coffee in three hours, hands jittering as they tried to steady her cup. God, she needed to blow off some steam later.

"Our opponent of the Republican Party, Mr 'Mark Braun,'" Hagrid said, miming quotation marks with his fingers, "He is the worst kind of person. He is rude to trick or treaters, is cranky in the morning and I know for a fact that he has cried over spilt milk on more than one occasion. Ladies and gentlemen, that is inexcusable."

"They're Londoners, they can't even vote," Hermione bemoaned, as she motioned for Neville to bring her another cup of coffee, "This is completely irrelevant. This is unacceptable. He's babbling!"

"So are you," scoffed Neville before vanishing behind a set of curtains.

"Now Mr Braun says that the rich aren't bad people, they're misunderstood and highly attractive. Heh, the way he talks you'd think they were one of them vampires all the girls read about these days, am I right fellas?"

Hermione sighed, and exited the backstage area. She didn't need to listen to the rest of the speech, she was sure she'd read all about it in tomorrow's papers. No doubt the Huffington Post would compile a list or an article or something.

Noticing Neville returning with her coffee, she motioned for him to walk with her to the car park out back.

"What do you think Neville, how screwed are we?" she inquired.

"Royally," he mused, "Speaking of screwing-"

Hermione raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I just walked in on Ron giving Ginny the old Texas Back Door Screamer, if you catch my drift."

Hermione spat out her eighth coffee.

"I really hope that's not what I think it is."

"Eeyup," concurred Neville.

"Those fucking sluts. This could seriously damage our campaign. If word gets to the press that the First Lady is having incestuous relations with her brother, married to one of the key members of the Democratic Party, polls would plunge."

She paused for a moment.

"I'm also emotionally devastated that my husband is cheating on me with his sister and best friend's wife."

Neville shrugged indifferently.

"Kind of hypocritical Hermione, you did sleep with Ron's best friend and Ginny's husband."

"Wait, you don't think this is him trying to get back at me, do you?"

"This situation is all kinds of messed up," pointed out Neville, "Frankly, I'm starting to feel like ever since we all became politicians, we all slowly became cynical assholes more interesting in shagging each other than actually running the goddamn United States of America. Remember when Voldemort was the biggest issue in our lives? At least we had some goddamn morals back then."

"Welcome to politics Neville," Hermione smiled wryly, "It's a soul-crushing and thankless job. You either lose party membership or live long enough to become elected."

"Pretty sure you mangled that Batman quote."

"Luckily, this election isn't going to hinge on the Batman vote."

"Fair enough. Want to get a drink?"

"Sure, I've got a few bottles of Scotch at my apartment, and a rubber. How'd you like to be the Monica Lewinsky to my Clinton?"

Neville chuckled.

"I guess I wouldn't mind having a crack at your Clinton."

The two locked arms and prepared to depart to a night of tempestuous passions that would sicken almost every other possible iteration of Hermione Granger, including the second Hermione who had just transported herself into this awful alternate universe filled with rampant hormones, cynicism and American politics.

She dusted off her jacket and pulled up the jacket sleeve to reveal an unsettling tattoo on her arm.

Pressing down on the Dark Mark inked onto her forearm, she grinned impishly and whispered menacingly.

"I'm in. Prepping to infiltrate and locate the target."

She stared across the car park, where Hermione and Neville were making out against a dark car.

Death Eater Hermione pulled out a switchblade.

"I think it's time to reclaim my identify."

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
